A Failure to Communicate
by Ross7
Summary: What happens when an ambulance,carrying John Gage and his cardiac patient, is pulled over for a traffic stop? This E! fic' is based on a Real Life incident involving an Oklahoma State Trooper with a bad case of road rage, and a Creek Nation Paramedic.
1. Chapter 1

**"A Failure to Communicate"**

By Ross7

LA County FF Paramedic, John Gage, was crouched in the back of a moving ambulance. The young man was busy gathering a fresh set of vitals on his patient, an elderly lady complaining of severe chest pains.

The woman had just been in an accident involving several vehicles.

Though his patient had not been seriously injured in the multi-car crash, the woman's symptoms, vitals and latest EKG all confirmed what Gage had strongly suspected: the traumatic experience had triggered a heart attack.

The paramedic's partner, Roy DeSoto, was still back at the scene patching up the TA's other victims, who had also sustained only minor injuries.

Suddenly, the emergency vehicle's siren ceased its monotonous wailing.

Gage pulled the tips of his stethoscope from his ears and directed his attention toward the driver. "Why'd yah kill the Code R? We can't be at Rampart already…"

"I didn't kill it," Dennis Mueller calmly replied. "It just died. I kin smell burning wires up here. I think we may have lost some fuses. We no longer have our lights and siren." The attendant locked gazes with the now frowning fireman, in his rear view mirror. "Should I pull over and call for backup transport?"

Gage glanced down at the little notepad, upon which he'd been recording his patient's steadily deteriorating vitals, and his frown deepened. "No. There's no time. We need to get this patient to an ER—pronto! Just proceed—with caution!"

Mueller nodded and proceeded—with caution!

* * *

Several blocks later, the ambulance approached a deserted intersection. Dennis _cautiously_ drove clean through it, completely ignoring the STOP sign.

Within just a matter of moments, a siren sounded and flashing lights appeared in the van's side mirrors.

John Gage glanced up from his critical patient—again. "Why are we stopping?"

"We're getting pulled over," the attendant regrettably replied.

The paramedic's face filled with incredulity. "Wha-at? Why-y?"

"Ahh-ahh…there was no other traffic around, so I blew right by the last STOP si—."

"—**Squad 51**," Dr. Brackett piped up, via the Bio-phone. "**This is Rampart. Can you send me another stri—?**"

"—OUT HERE!…NO-OW!" a menacing voice suddenly interrupted, from somewhere just outside their parked ambulance.

The two medical personnel onboard exchanged glances in the vehicle's rear view mirror once again, this time, somewhat anxious ones.

The paramedic promptly picked up the phone. "Uh-uh, Rampart? Squad 51. We've just been pulled over for a traffic stop and…I think we may have a problem here. Stand-by…"

Actually, judging by the confrontational tone in the traffic cop's voice, John was rather _certain_ they had a problem there.

"**Rampart Base," **Brackett immediately came back.** "What is the _problem_, 51?**"

Realizing that Rampart had an LA County Fire Department radio, and wishing to save precious time explaining things, before he hopped out and attempted to defuse the officer's hot temper, the paramedic tied a rubber IV tourniquet around his hand-held radio, locking its mic' in the ON position.

* * *

Several miles away, at Rampart General's Emergency Receiving…

Kel Brackett impatiently 'stood-by', tapping the metal clipboard, containing his cardiac patient's medical information, on a counter, in the hospital's glassed-in Paramedic Base Station.

"**What?**" a strange voice suddenly taunted, over an LA County Fire Department frequency. "**You think that—just because you drive an ambulance—that gives you a license to break the law?**"

Speaking of exchanging anxious glances…

The doctor turned to the nurse who was standing at his side, and the pair swapped a couple of rather concerned looks, themselves.

* * *

Roy DeSoto was currently en route to Rampart to retrieve his partner.

It had actually taken the paramedic longer for him to get all the 'refuse treatment' forms signed, than it had for him to bandage the victims' cuts and abrasions.

"**What?**" someone's sarcastic voice suddenly came over the Squad's dash-mounted radio. "**You think that—just because you drive an ambulance—that gives you a license to break the law?**"

"**What seems to be the problem, officer?" **he heard his partner calmly inquire.

The paramedic's blue eyes widened in astonishment and his bushy, blond eyebrows shot up into the middle of his forehead. 'Why would anybody—in their right mind—ever pull an emergency vehicle over for a traffic stop?' he silently wondered. The fireman's face suddenly filled with alarm. The cop was obviously _not_ in his right mind. DeSoto swallowed hard and immediately reached out to flick _his_ emergency vehicle's lights and siren on. His right hand then moved over to the frequency control knob on his radio. He flipped the transmitter to another channel and placed a call for a back-up squad—and an additional ambulance.

Admittedly, the call address he gave the dispatcher was pretty vague: somewhere on Brighton Blvd., between Rampart General Hospital and Pryor Avenue.

* * *

Somewhere over on Brighton Blvd.…at the _insane_ traffic stop…

John Gage threw the ambulance's back doors open and jumped down onto the pavement. "What seems to be the problem, officer?" he calmly inquired of the agitated cop.

"I wasn't talkin' to you!" the policeman impolitely pointed out, and glared out at the new arrival from behind his unbelievably dark sunglasses. "I was talkin' to the driver!"

"Sir, my name is John Gage. I'm an LA County Fire Department paramedic—and **I** am in charge of this rescue vehicle."

"Okay! Fine, _fireboy_! You've said your piece! Now why don't you just haul your scrawny ass back up into that ambulance," the cop ordered more than asked, "while I give 'Mister I'm above the law', here, a ticket, for failure to stop!" The portly police officer aimed his shady glare at the emergency vehicle's driver. "I ain't gonna allow you to drive around actin' like you own the road! No, sir! I'm not gonna put up with that shit! You understand me?"

Gage had had—and heard—more than enough. "C'mon, Denny," he urged his browbeaten associate. "We've got a patient to deliver. You don't have to put up with this." The paramedic turned to the policeman. "You have no right to talk to him like that."

The officer obviously did not appreciate the paramedic's challenge to his supreme authority. "I ain't listening to _you_, buddy!" he blurted, his chubby, flushed cheeks turning a bright red—with ever intensifying anger. "You get your ass back in that ambulance, or I'm taking you in! I'm talking to the driver!"

"No, sir," the paramedic calmly corrected. "You are _screaming at_ the driver."

"I'm sorry, officer," Dennis Mueller assured the upset—er, downright angry guy. "I really am. You see, we're transporting an elderly patient with severe chest pains. There were no other vehicles visible near the intersection. I thought it wouldn't mat—"

"—Don't give me none a' that 'It's an emergency!' crap!" the irate cop advised. "You weren't runnin' hot! If you were in such an all-fired hurry to transport this precious 'patient' of yours, then why weren't you usin' your lights and siren?"

"We were," the driver adamantly declared. "Until our rig blew a fuse, or something…about three blocks back, and we los—."

"—Likely story!" the officer insincerely said. "Come along, 'Denny'! I'm issuing you a citation!"

"B-but," the ambulance driver stammered, "what about our cardiac patient?"

"Sir," John calmly began, once he'd completed counting to ten—again, "there is an elderly woman lying in the back of that ambulance right now who is in dire need of critical care. You are preventing her from receiving that care."

"_You_ kin leave!" the cop exclaimed. "In fact, I really wish you would!"

"I can't drive—a-and treat the patient!" the paramedic protested.

"Yeah? Well…You two should a' thought about _that_—before you went ahead and broke the law!" the policeman smugly proclaimed.

Gage gasped in exasperation. "Look, if you want to _ticket_ **him**—fine! If you want to _arrest_ **me**—fine! You can follow us over to Rampart General…and, once we drop this patient off, you can ticket us…and arrest us…to your heart's content. Just let us go, so we can get this poor woman to the hospital!"

"I sai-aid," the officer angrily repeated, as the paramedic's plea fell on deaf ears, "come along, Denny!"

Gage gasped again. "Sir, the patient needs to get to the hospital! Why can't you just let us go? We can deal with thi-is…mess—once we get her there."

The officer's already red face suddenly turned even redder. "You better get back in that ambulance before you get your scrawny butt thrown in jail! Now! You understand me?!"

"C'mon, Denny. We're gonna finish transporting our patient. Once _we_ take the patient to the hospital, _you _can take me to jail. Okay?" With that, the paramedic spun on his heels and began heading back over to their rig.

The vehicle's driver turned and began taking his leave, as well.

The big-bellied bully about busted his shirt buttons. "Stay right where you are, Denny!"

Gage glanced back over his shoulder and gave his stalled companion a _look_ that caused Mueller to throw caution to the wind and ignore the cop's shouted warning. "We're not staying here," the paramedic firmly stated. "We have a patient to transport. Right now, the _patient_ is our number one priority." The paramedic felt a vice-like grip on his right arm and he was pulled to a bone jarringly abrupt halt.

"Get your smart ass back here, fireboy—and turn around!" the irate officer ordered, pulling his cuffs out. "You are under arrest for obstructing a police officer in the performance of his duties!"

"Sir, _you_ are obstructing _us_ in the performance of _our_ duties!" the fireman reminded the angry guy right back and would not allow himself to be handcuffed. He'd already been away from his patient for a whole lot longer than he'd originally intended to be. The elderly woman had been holding her own when he'd stepped out to have—what he had hoped would be—a brief, reasonable chat with the officer, but cardiac patients can go south—in a big hurry!

It shouldn't have taken them _**this **_long to get underway again. 'Any reasonable person would have heard about the elderly heart patient inside—and the rig's blown fuses—and just let the whole thing slide.' Hold on…What was he thinking? A reasonable, rational person would have never pulled a traffic stop on an **emergency vehicle** _in transport_—in the first place!

The still struggling fireman was finally able to pull his scrawny—but wiry—self free from the **un**reasonable, **ir**rational officer's grasp. John just rolled his eyes, as the out of control cop proceeded to add 'resisting arrest' to his growing list of the paramedic's supposed 'offenses'.

Gage climbed breathlessly up into the back of the ambulance and began securing another, newer set of vitals.

* * *

The cop crossed over to his patrol car and put in a call for 'assistance with a traffic stop'. The police officer then hauled the hapless driver up to the front of the parked rescue rig and began chewing the lawbreaker out—again.

* * *

John snatched up his notepad. Next, he picked up the bio-phone and pressed its transmit button. "Squad 51," the still somewhat out of breath paramedic began. "Rampart, did you copy any of that?"

"**This is Rampart**," Brackett quickly came back, his voice filled with concern. "**Affirmative, 51. We copied the whole _un_****_believable_ thing—loud and clear. How is Mrs. Riser doing?**"

The paramedic proceeded to give the good doctor an update on his patient's current physical—and emotional—condition. He even managed to _finally_ complete the requested cardio-telemetry transmission.

* * *

Over at Rampart…

The ER physician studied Mrs. Riser's vital signs—at present, and interpreted her latest EKG strip. The doctor then adjusted their cardiac patient's definitive care, accordingly.

"**Rampart? 51. The latest meds are all onboard**," John Gage relievedly reported, just moments later. "**The, uhh, patient seems to be resting somewhat easier, Rampart…**"

"Rampart Base. That's always good to hear, 51," Dr. Brackett replied, relief also evident in his voice. His finger was brushed aside from the call button.

"What about you?"Dixie McCall anxiously inquired."Are you okay?"

* * *

Back over on Brighton Blvd….

Gage glanced down at himself. His bare arms were covered with bruise marks and his shirttails had become un-tucked. But, other than tha-at… "I'm okay, Dix'," he assured the concerned nurse. "I just look a little…disheveled…at the moment."

* * *

Miss McCall stared down at the counter, at the two-way radio that was resting there. She could almost _hear_ the paramedic's wry smile. "Disheveled, huh?" The woman aimed a raised eyebrow at Dr. Brackett. "The man's incorrigible," she quickly determined.

"**Rampart. 51.** _**What we have here, is a failure to communicate.**_ **But, right now, I'm more concerned about Denny**," Johnny continued, the humor now absent from his voice. "**That cop is still out there, ranting and raving at the poor guy.**"

Brackett regained control of the call button. "Then you'll be happy to hear that help is headed your way, 51," the physician announced. "Your partner should be arriving any moment now…along with a back-up squad and another ambulance. I, uh, also informed the authorities as to what was taking place out there. More _levelheaded_ law enforcement people should be showing up—shortly…"

"**I sure hope so…**" the paramedic promptly replied, in a voice that was just slightly above a whisper. "**Squad 51. Appreciate that, Rampart**…" There was a long, uncomfortable silence…followed—finally—by yet another barely audible '_click_', as the two-way radio's transmit button was once again pressed on the other end.** "Say…if reinforcements don't arrive in time…and I end up going to jail…will you two promise to come down and post my bail?**" the paramedic pondered, breaking radio protocol—and making a morbid stab at humor.

Dix' and Kel traded pained expressions.

Then the doctor's finger quickly depressed the call button.

"_You're incorrigible!_" the pair simply—and simultaneously—stated, breaking protocol, as well.

______________________________________________________

John's amused expression vanished, as 'Psycho cop' suddenly stuck his head into the rig.

"Hey! Fireboy!" the man shouted into the back of the ambulance. "You _do_ know that you most definitely _will_be goin' to jail, right?"

"Sir, will you _please_ lower your voice?" the paramedic calmly, and respectfully requested. He'd just gotten his agitated cardiac patient calmed down, for cryin' out loud!

"Are you tellin' me to _shut up_?!"

The paramedic winced, as the officer's shouted question was closely followed by a rather lo-o-ong string of shouted obscenities. Following another—completely disregarded—request, to _please_ be quiet, Gage gave his patient's hand a comforting squeeze. He then got stiffly to his feet and stepped over to close the ambulance's back doors.

The policeman latched onto one of the portals and prevented it from closing. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Trying to protect my patient," the paramedic calmly replied, "from your verbal assault...Sir."

The officer gave the elderly gal on the gurney a half-hearted glance.

The old woman's eyes were wide with terror. He couldn't see the rest of her wrinkled face. Her nose and mouth were covered with an oxygen mask. "Don't worry, ma-am," the cop proceeded to tell her, feigning concern. "We're gonna get you to the hospital…directly."

John's response to the foul-mouthed man's phony reassurance was another eye roll. His patient would be _at_ the hospital already, if the power-tripping police officer had just _let them go!_ Suddenly, from somewhere off in the distance, the fireman heard a _very_ familiar sound. He heaved an audible sigh of relief. Judging from the direction it was coming from, it had to be Squad 51 that he was hearing.

Mistaking the approaching siren as _his_ back-up, the bully with the badge made his move. "Okay, fireboy! Get out here! NO-OW!"

But the 'fireboy' refused to budge from the ambulance. "I am _not_ leaving my patient. Another squad is coming. Once it gets here, _then_ you can arrest me...Officer."

Denny stepped up to the ambulance's open back doors, looking determined to provide the paramedic with his full support…if needed.

John gave the brave young man a look of undying gratitude.

The police officer was beside himself! "You don't dictate terms to me, #&!%!" he screamed, his right hand coming to rest upon his holstered weapon.

John's jaw dropped. Was this idiot really planning to use _deadly force_ against him? He continued watching, as the unstable cop's fingers started to unsnap the leather flap on his gun's holster. "He-ey! Take it easy! In case you haven't noticed, we both play for the _same_ team! I'm on _your_ side! Remember?"

"You can't just _shoot_ him!" Denny insisted. "He's unarmed! That'd be cold-blooded murder!"

"Get down here!" the guy with his hand on his holstered gun re-demanded.

The fireman raised his slightly shaking hands—in surrender—and dropped to the ground, without a sound.

The cop spun the arrestee around and then latched onto his wrists.

The paramedic grunted in pain, as he was body slammed—face-first—into one of the ambulance's open back doors. "Ah-uh!" he cried aloud, as his arms were wrenched, very forcibly, behind his back, nearly dislocating his shoulders. He couldn't allow his hands to be cuffed! If his patient needed him, he wouldn't be able to treat her. Once again, the scrawny—but wiry—paramedic was able to pull free of the goon-with-the-gun's grip. Gage grimaced and gasped, as the cop's huge right hand suddenly closed around his neck—in an **un**lawful choke hold! The fireman tried to free himself, but, with both his airway and his corotid arteries blocked, his oxygen-deprived brain immediately began shutting down. 'I guess this guy is willing to use deadly force, after all…' was the last thought he had—and his frantic friend yelling, 'He-ey! What the hell do you think you're doing?' was the last thing he heard—right before his whole world went dark.

Denny had been trying, in vain, to pull the policeman's white-knuckled hand from the Johnny's throat. With DeSoto's help, he finally succeeded in doing so.

Roy caught his collapsing partner under the arms and Johnny's limp body was carefully lowered onto the pavement. The paramedic gave his 'patient' a quick, but thorough, once over. His friend was both unresponsive and barely breathing. "Denny, you wanna grab our spare respirator? It's in the lower, left, rear compartment of the Squad…"

The ambulance driver nodded dutifully, and disappeared.

* * *

Roy reluctantly left Johnny's side and jumped up into the back of the ambulance, to attend to their primary patient. He was tremendously relieved to find the elderly lady's eyes open. "How are you doing, Mrs. Riser?" he asked, and lifted the oxygen mask a little, so he could hear her reply.

"Chest…still…hurts," the woman replied, in a voice barely above a whisper. "How's…your partner…doing?"

"Don't you worry none about him," Roy urged, with a reassuring hand squeeze and a slight smile. "Johnny's gonna be just fine. Hear all those sirens out there?"

The distraught lady listened for a moment or two and then nodded.

"The other squad and another ambulance are here. So you just rest easy, all right? And they'll have you at the hospital in practically no time at all."

Mrs. Riser somehow managed to muster up the where-with-all to flash her reassuring rescuer a grateful smile. "Go…attend…to your…friend," she urged, in a breathless whisper.

Roy gave the kind—and understanding—old lady a grateful grin of his own. Then he replaced her oxygen mask, gathered up their radios, and the rest of their gear, and disappeared out the back, passing the paramedics from 36's in the ambulance's open doorway.

The two new arrivals didn't need to ask what had happened to Johnny. Thanks to their HT's open mic', _everybody_,within hearing range of a Los Angeles County Fire Department radio, already knew _everything_ that had happened to him!

DeSoto jumped back down and immediately dropped to his knees beside his choked chum. "Thanks!" he told Denny, as he accepted the plastic case he'd asked the attendant to fetch for him. The paramedic got his patient's O2 established and then began gathering his vital signs.

* * *

Following a dozen or so puffs of pure oxygen, Johnny emitted a low moan. Just a few moments later, his eyelids fluttered open. Crazy cop was hovering over him, and his partner was kneeling beside him. Apparently, leveler heads _had _both arrived—_and_ prevailed…because _he_ was still breathing.

Roy smiled down at him. "Hi there! How yah feelin'?"

His partner grimaced in pain and started reaching for his crushed throat. Da-amn! Did it _hurt_ to swallow! Gage coughed and gagged, as his first few attempts at speaking failed—miserably. "I'm…okay…I gue-ess…" he finally managed to croak, in a barely audible whisper. "I got one…Harvey-Wall-Banger…of a headache...though."

Roy gripped his hurting friend's right wrist reassuringly. "Yeah…well…that probably comes from being choked—practically_ to _**dea-eath**!"

John flashed his partner back a smile that showed he appreciated both the support…and the sarcasm.

DeSoto heard the sound of an approaching police siren and glanced up.

The new arrival piled out of his patrol car and then listened, patiently, as the 'arresting officer' presented _his_ version of what had transpired at the scene of his 'traffic stop'.

John Gage was glad that he had regained consciousness, because the look the new cop gave his raving—and still raging—colleague was priceless! The paramedic wouldn't have wanted to miss seeing _that_—for anything!

The back-up cop gave his fellow police officer a stare of complete and utter disbelief, and then used his dazed peepers to clearly pose the following question: **'Are you out of your ever-lovin' mind?'**

Yup! John figured that one look just about summed the whole 'situation' up—in a nutshell.

The bully with the badge—and the trigger-happy fingers—was obviously experiencing a 'psychotic episode'…of some bizarre sort.

John Gage locked gazes with his partner and cleared his sore throat again. "Guess _people_ kin blow fuses, too, huh…"

Roy DeSoto watched as the vehemently protesting—and completely out of control—cop was escorted away from the firetrucks and ambulances and over to one of the patrol cars. "Apparently so…" he sadly surmised. The fireman then redirected his gaze back to his groggy buddy. "C'mon!" he encouraged, and extended a helping hand. "Let's go get _you_ checked out."

"I don't need to be checked out," his partner protested—er, croaked, as he was pulled stiffly to his unsteady feet. "Apart from the headache, I'm perfectly okay. Besides, I ain't exactly sure. But I might be _under arrest_. If I leave here with you, you could be accused of 'aiding and abetting' a criminal."

Roy rolled his eyes and began 'aiding and abetting' the 'escaping prisoner' over to their rescue truck. "Thanks for the warning, John Dillinger. But I'm willing to chance it." He pulled the passenger door open. "No-ow, get your 'disheveled' self into the Squad."

Gage climbed carefully aboard and the door was slammed.

"You okay, Johnny?" Denny wondered, as he approached the Rescue Squad's open passenger window.

Gage grinned and nodded. "How about _you_?"

The attendant nodded, also. "The other officer says I'll be free to leave, just as soon as he takes my statement. He told me to tell you that he'll catch up with you later on, at the hospital."

"What makes him think I'm gonna be at the hospital—later on?"

"Probably because he made Roy, here, promise to sit on you until he gets there."

Roy finished stowing their gear. The paramedic climbed in behind the wheel and then just sat there, completely ignoring his partner's accusing stare.

Gage gave up and turned back to the open window. "Thanks, man!" he told the attendant and proffered his right hand.

The driver took it and shook it. "No problem! See yah around, Johnny! Roy!"

The pair waved goodbye and DeSoto drove off, in the direction of the hospital.

Speaking of promises…

"Ro-oy…if I am ever arrested…and thrown in jail," Johnny began, following a few moments of thoughtful silence, "will you promise to come down and bail me out?"

"Sure!" Roy readily replied. "I promise to bail you out, if you promise to bail me out…"

"Deal!" Gage declared.

They rode along in blessed silence for a few more blocks, before Johnny finally realized something. "Wait a minute. What happens if we're both thrown in jail at the same time?"

"Eh…Don't worry," DeSoto advised. "I'll just have Joanne bake us one of those special cakes…you know, the ones with the _files_ hidden inside of them?"

The two friends turned to each other and traded grins.

* * *

Midway through A-Shift's next tour of duty…

Johnny and Roy returned from a run and strolled into Station 51's kitchen.

Captain Stanley informed Gage that Vince Howard had left a message for the paramedic to call him, at his earliest possible convenience.

Hoping for some good news, John pulled a handful of change from his pants' pocket and headed over to the coin-operated payphone in the corner of the rec' room.

"Hi, Vince. This is John Gage. You wanted to talk to me?…Unh-huh-uh…I see-ee…" The paramedic listened for a few minutes. Then his face filled with a huge grin. "That's _terrific_ news!…Yea-eah…Right…Me, too…Right…Sure thing, Vince! Thanks for lettin' me know, first-hand…Yeah…Okay…Sure…Okay…Will do! Goodbye." Gage hung up the phone. When he turned back around, he saw that his fellow firefighters—and friends—had assembled before him. The paramedic beamed a broad grin at each and every one of them. "Daniel Martinson will no longer be wearing a badge—or carrying a loaded weapon. The DA said he would be willing to plead the kidnapping and felony assault charges down to disorderly conduct and reckless endangerment, **if** Mr. Martinson would agree to attend court-ordered anger management classes…and undergo a prescribed number of psycho-therapy sessions. Martinson accepted the plea bargain!"

The guys returned his grin, with interest!

**The End**

Author's note: This is one of those 'Ripped Right From The Headlines' kind a' stories, like you always seem to see on Law & Order.

Now, if the same fate could only befall the Real Life 'psycho-cop', Oklahoma State Trooper, Daniel Martin.

Back on May 24th of this year, (2009) Mr. Martin made a traffic stop on an emergency vehicle—in transport—and then, in a fit of road rage, assaulted and placed an unlawful choke-hold on Paramedic, Maurice White. You can see video-taped footage of the entire disgraceful incident on the internet.


	2. Chapter 2

Update on the Real Life road rage incident:

**July 22nd, 2009 AP release:**

"STROUD, Okla. – An Oklahoma Highway Patrol trooper caught on video cussing and fighting with the driver of an ambulance carrying a patient has been suspended for five days.

A patrol spokesman said Trooper Daniel Martin was put on unpaid suspension Wednesday and must undergo an anger assessment.

A cell phone video of the May 24 scuffle that was widely distributed over the Internet shows Martin grabbing the paramedic, Maurice White Jr., in a choke hold around the neck.

Martin's dashboard-mounted camera showed him stopping the ambulance, cussing and accusing White of failing to yield. He also threatened to arrest him.

White's attorney said Wednesday that White was disappointed by the suspension. Martin's attorney, Gary James, did not return a message seeking comment."


End file.
